"I am Sam. Sam I am."

Perhaps Dr. Seuss-type literacy was something we hoped our Sam would be interested in by first grade. After all, as a preschooler he was not interested in writing his name, sounding things out, playing mother/son spelling games on the chalk board, or even singing the ABC song. I decided that academics would come at some point for him -- in the meantime I would love him, read to him (he loved that) and hold him. We installed (screwed tightly into the wall studs (--his dresser required the same fastening --he's a climber)) a bookshelf in his room, with story-time favorites. He enjoyed looking through those books for as long as we'd allow.

Kindergarten came. He began to learn poems and tunes for each letter in the alphabet. And just like Abbie, when he reached the "RR" sound, his speech pattern was altered permanently. He soaked up all the information Mrs. Dorton could provide. He seemed to be doing well. He was happy being a student. And that was what I hoped for most.

Over the summer he discovered "Calvin and Hobbes." Many afternoons found him on his tummy, pouring over Calvin's antics and laughing to himself.


At our 1st parent-teacher conference for our third-born, Miss Park tells us that she has no concerns about Sam's literacy capacity. He reads 125 words a minute, she reports. We respond with dropped jaws. We have nothing to say. Sam doesn't either -- he's busy reading.

After much praise Sam has made some new goals. There are various piles of books on tables, on couches, on floors. "Sam has a plan. A plan has Sam. A plan to read. Sam reads indeed!"